


television romance

by cumpeachx



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Eating, M/M, Rimming, pornstar AU, tags will be updated as chapters update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-10-06 01:25:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17336045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumpeachx/pseuds/cumpeachx
Summary: Timothée Chalamet is an established pornstar and Armie Hammer is a newcomer that doesn’t know how to fuck without falling in love, apparently.





	1. i don't even know what i'm doing here

**Author's Note:**

> hello...again.  
> i’ll make this short and sweet;  
> yes, i deleted all of my work and yes, now i am (slowly) reposting it.  
> there have been some minor changes so if you care enough to read it again, please comment and/or kudos so i can feel that sweet, sweet validation. 
> 
> i also want to take the time to thank every single person that reached out to me, supported me, encouraged me, and inspired me to come back. and an individual shout out to user speakfree for making me the most amazing title cover for this story and for keeping my inspirations burning stronger than ever. so much love to you! 
> 
> this is all fiction. obviously.
> 
> title/chapter titles from "television romance" by pale waves

"Big fan?" the clerk smiles wryly as she scans another blu-ray, shoving it into the bag among a few others. Armie scoffs but keeps quiet. Luckily, the clerk takes the hint and quickly gives him his total, with which he pays in cash because he doesn't want to look over his bank statement weeks from now and remember any of this.

On the drive back to his apartment, Armie contemplates where the hell his life made a wrong turn. How did he end up here? He can practically still hear Nick's voice ringing in his ears —

_“It's a one time thing, Armie. A big paycheck then you're done."_

_"I don't know, man. It's just... weird."_

_"I get it, I do. You need the money though and this is your chance. It's just sex."_

_"Yeah, sex with a stranger."_

_"No. It's sex with - "_

"Timothée Chalamet," Armie huffs as he reads the name out loud in the dark void of his apartment. What a pretentious fucking name.

"Doubt it even needs to be spelled that way," he sighs as he chooses between two equally cringe worthy titles. He looks over the cover and the name once more. "Fucking porn stars."

Armie rolls his eyes when the title screen starts up. He hates watching corny porn flicks, finding them underwhelming and ridiculous, but if he's going to fuck this Chalamet guy in the morning then he wants to be prepared, see what he's getting himself into. No pun intended.

He barely makes it five minutes in and is ready to turn off the movie just as Timothée appears on screen.

He hesitates, sitting back against the sofa, and runs a finger over his bottom lip.

"Fuck." Armie frantically grabs the blu-ray case to re-examine the cover more thoroughly. The photo of Timothée is nothing compared to what he's seeing on his screen.

He tosses the case back down and focuses his attention back on the slender dark haired beauty on his television. Armie isn't sure when his cock became so achingly hard but now it's out of his pants and he's aggressively palming at it and by the time Timothée is bent over, ass spread wide, dick bouncing as he's fucked senseless, there’s no turning back.

"Fuck.." Armie whimpers to himself. There's no lube around and he hates using his own spit so he just dry fucks himself shamelessly because he cant take his eyes off the screen. On the screen, Timothée comes into his own hand and starts to lick it up, like a kitten lapping from a bowl of warm milk.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Armie comes, sweat beading down his temple, his head crashing hard against the back of his sofa. He’s an absolutely mess but couldn’t care less.

He sits for a few minutes, wiping his come stained hand on the jeans bunched around his thighs, trying to catch his breath while he watches the rest of the movie play out. Really he just wants to stare at Timothée for as long as he can.

As he watches, Armie keeps reminding himself that he’ll get to fuck that man in the morning and when movie finally ends, he sighs heavily, his mouth hanging open in awe. Guess it could be worse.

-

Timmy clicks his tongue in disdain as he adjusts the volume of the music flowing through his headphones. Bartier Cardi. He rolls his eyes as he glances at the clock on the wall. Whoever this "impressive" newcomer is, he's late. Really fucking impressive.

Timmy rolls his eyes, takes a long sip from the steaming green tea in his mug. Fucking Amateur.

He’s sitting alone in a corner, black robe pulled tight over his slender body, eyes deep in focus as he scrolls idly through his phone. Everyone learned early on in his career to leave him alone; Timmy claims he is isn't an asshole, just that needs space to clear his head before having his ass pounded. He thinks it’s only fair.

Timmy looks up over his cup when he sees commotion in the distance. He stares until someone finally shuffles over to him then lazily pulls one of the large headphones from his ear, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"New guy is here," his assistant informs, sounding as annoyed as he feels.

"Fucking finally," he sighs, pushing himself up from his chair, his bare feet padding against the floor as he walks towards the opposite end of the room.

"Let's go see how impressive this dick is."

-

"Nice to meet you, Timothée," Armie speaks seriously, his hand outstretched towards Timmy. He wants to be professional but he’s also completely mesmerized by the fact that anyone in the world could be that fucking beautiful.

Timmy looks at Armie's hand for a moment, contemplating the size, before his eyes flutter up into achingly blue eyes. Timmy can't resist the smirk that curls at the corners of his lips; he is thrilled at the prospect of having those hands on his body.

"Timmy,” he corrects with a smile and their hands clasp together in a firm shake.

Armie's mouth falls open for a moment before he shuts it and nods, returning the smile, "Timmy."

Timmy hums curiously. It's now very clear to him why the director insisted this golden god of a man be his costar.  


“I suppose it could be worse.” Timmy shoots Armie a wink before walking back to his dressing room.

-

Armie stands completely still, silent and focused while he's given direction. Timmy has already climbed into the bathtub and is soaking and relaxing.

"It's now or never, _Hammer_ ," Timmy says his name like a challenge as he motions with his fingers at the robe Armie has yet to remove.

Armie grabs the belt around his waist and starts to untie it slowly. His heart is hammering in his chest and Timmy is looking over at him expectantly, which is both arousing and nerve wracking.

"Don't get shy on me now, Hammer.”

"Fuck off," Armie breathes with a shy laugh. He takes off the robe and tosses it aside. Timmy could choke on the sudden gush of saliva that forms in his mouth. He takes a deep breath and thinks about how that is definitely the prettiest cock I've ever seen in my life.

"Good boy. I can work with that," Timmy giggles, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, and winks.

Armie is offered a pill to help with any nerves that might affect him getting an erection but if Timmy keeps looking at him like that then the only thing he needs to worry about is premature ejaculation.

-

Armie has never kissed anyone for money before and the apprehension he feels is obvious. He’s sure the kiss is terrible for Timmy as well, especially because everything feels formal, like it’s all choreographed. It's all acting. Armie decides maybe that’s why he should just relax — none of this will matter tomorrow morning.

The dialogue is cheesy and the director tells them to improvise most of it. Armie decides his character is more the strong silent type to avoid having to use any cheesy porno lines.

"Yeah, you like that? You like when I slide your cock up and down my ass crack, Daddy?" Timmy moans. He clearly loves the corny dialogue and despite his strong opinions, it’s working wonders on Armie's dick.

Their bodies are half out of water, soapy and wet. Timmy's back is pressed against Armie's chest as he grinds and slides his ass up and down over Armie's cock. Armie has his hands on his waist, fingers digging deep into sharp hip bones, guiding Timmy's movements as his cock is massaged between two perfectly warm and sud-covered ass cheeks. Timmy reaches back to hook his arm around the back of Armie's neck, pulling him in so that Armie can suck on newly exposed skin.

Armie has no idea if this is unprofessional or not but he takes a risk and sinks his teeth into Timmy’s neck, getting a responsive hiss in return.

"Fuck yeah, bite me, bite me big Daddy."

Armie wishes Timmy would shut the fuck up but apparently this is what the viewers want so he follows directions and bites until Timmy's skin is purple. Timmy starts moving faster, Armie's cock slapping and sliding against the wetness. It's almost too much to take and Armie wishes he could just throw Timmy against the wall and fuck his brains out but that's not what is written in the script. Really fucking unfortunate.

The director calls cut and Armie is offended at how easily Timmy shuts off; he was moaning like a wanton slut half a second ago and now he's putting his robe on and demanding a cup of tea from his assistant.

Armie just stands there, cock brandished like a fucking compass pointing north, breathless and sweaty.

“Fuck.”

  



	2. you're not so heavenly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> f i c t i o n
> 
> armie and timmy are only porn stars in my head, okay?
> 
> once more, things have been changed/edited from the original posting of this story so if you feel committed, enjoy another read through!

The scene needs to be set, lights adjusted just right so that when they finally fuck they won’t be interrupted. There’s so much commotion all around but Armie is completely in his head. He’s suddenly doubting his ability to actually fuck on camera, unsure that he can withstand the pressure to perform. Armie knows that Timmy can sense his apprehension, which is somehow even more mortifying than the idea of his dick being documented in action.

“Just relax, take a deep breath," Timmy offers with a soft, crooked smile. He moves through the bubble filled tub slowly and places his hands on Armie's thighs, squeezing firmly, a twitch of a smirk taking over his mouth.

"Don’t be nervous. Don't you _like_ me?" he pouts, his eyes blinking downwards in an attempt to see through the foam where he can practically feel Armie's hard on radiating under the water.

Armie huffs and looks away, closing his eyes to steady himself. He hates that somehow Timmy seems to be able to read every emotion flowing through him. He’s un-fucking-believable. Suddenly Timmy laughs, splashing at him playfully. The water clings to the hair on Armie’s chest and makes it glisten. Armie looks down and can’t help but think about how later in the scene those droplets will be Timmy's come.

Someone in the background calls for them to take their places and all at once blood rushes to Armie's ears. He doesn't want to make a fool of himself but Timmy is looking at him with those heavy lids, fuck me green eyes, and the most intimidating smile that’s all teeth and suddenly he doesn't know whether he wants to cry or come, maybe both.

-

The condom feels foreign around Armie's cock but he's thankful to have one on because that means he’ll last longer once he’s inside of Timmy. God fucking forbid he come too quick and have to do this all over again.

Timmy is bent over the tub, one knee up on the edge as someone rubs oil on the pale skin of his ass to make it shine. As if it wasn’t fucking perfect enough. Armie tries his best not to stare but he tells himself it's for the benefit of his hard on that he takes a few glances.

Armie leans nervously towards an assistant at his side and asks with a blush of embarrassment and what he assumes is a whisper, "Is there preparation... or do I just go for it?"

Timmy snorts with amusement and looks over his shoulder, the wet ringlets of his hair dripping over his shoulder blades. His green eyes feel harsh against Armie’s flushed pink skin.

"Worried I can't handle your massive cock, Hammer?” Timmy winks, his voice as thick as molasses. Armie knows he’s being facetious but his cock throbs in response regardless, which makes Timmy glow with pride.

-

There’s no way to describe how good Timmy feels; every muscle in Armie’s body is on fire, tensing and releasing pure pleasure as he fucks hard, painfully hard, blissfully hard, into Timmy's ass.

Timmy is a wreck as well and despite how attracted he is to Armie, he prides himself on his professionalism. He knows to use attraction to his advantage but admits to himself in the moment it is slightly unnerving that for the first time in his career he needs to effort into not coming early.

"Fuck. Your cock is so big it hurts. I fucking love your big cock, _Daddy._ " Timmy is sloshing around in the water, pliant as Armie continues to pound him relentlessly.

Now that his cock is buried deep in Timmy’s ass, Armie couldn’t care less the words are coming out of his mouth. It doesn’t fucking matter - nothing does. Timmy could chant devil worship and it would still make his cock ache pathetically. Armie’s hands are sliding over Timmy's slicked hips and he has no idea why they use so much oil on his skin but it's making everything dangerously slippery, which really just turns him on even more. The slapping of skin mixed with the slosh of water makes him dizzy.

Timmy is biting his lip unironically while sweat forms on his brows because that’s how fucking hard he’s trying not to come. He reminds himself again that he's a professional and he needs to fucking act like it.

Even with the condom, Armie can feel the velvety perfection that is Timmy's insides. He wishes desperately that he could fill Timmy up and hates himself for not agreeing to the pre-test so that they could fuck without one but this is a one time thing, so it’s pointless. Or so he thought.

Somewhere in the distance, someone gives the cue that Armie can orgasm and he doesn't hesitate, spilling over instantly.

Stupid fucking condom, they both think simultaneously.

Armie collapses in a heap over Timmy's back, his fingers leaving bruises against his hip bones as he holds tight while riding out his orgasm. He pumps his cock so hard into Timmy that they're both blubbering messes and the sound that Timmy makes is one he's never made before.

"Holy fuck, Armie." Timmy cries in pleasure.

That definitely isn't in the script.

-

"Can we hurry the fuck up, please?" Timmy asks to no one in particular. He's been holding his cock in his hand for far too long and if he doesn't get to come on Armie in the next five minutes then he's just going to come anyway because this is fucking torture.

Armie is sitting in the warm water, most of the bubbles have dispersed and anyone looking closely can see that his cock is already starting to swell again. He can't help himself because Timmy is towering over him, one leg hoisted over his shoulder on the edge of the tub, his pretty, pink, swollen dick begging to burst ribbons of warm come all over his chest. It is truly the most beautiful thing he's ever witnessed. Armie hopes that Timmy's aim isn't great because he wants to taste the salty tang of him but he knows it’s unlikely.

"Fuck this," Timmy announces, his fisting tightening as he strokes himself. The director takes the hint, scrambling in his chair and frantically calls action.

Timmy beats his dick like a madman. He grips hard at Armie's hair and pulls back, exposing  
thick muscular neck and Timmy can feel his balls tighten at the sight and sound of Armie moaning, adam's apple bobbing up and down in anticipation.

"You want my come, Daddy?"

Armie nods.

"Say it, say you want my come all over you."

None of this is in the script but Armie doesn't care. He does as he's told. Timmy's head falls back as he orgasms, spurts of creamy white erupting from the tip of his cock, landing beautifully on the hair that blankets Armie's chest.

They're both breathless and staring intensely at each other by the time it's over.

The director calls cut and Timmy smiles down at Armie with something wicked in the way he flutters his eyes and Armie shifts nervously but can't seem to look away.

"Here," Timmy speaks softly, as if with genuine kindness. He lifts his two fingers that still have come dripping along the ends and presses them into Armie's parted lips. "You look like you wanted some."

Armie sucks the come off Timmy's fingers without a second thought, a blush forming on his cheeks. Timmy is absolutely proud of himself and Armie feels faint, realizing what he's done, but it's too late to recover because Timmy is already climbing out of the tub, pulling on his robe and demanding yet another cup of tea.


	3. you wanna love me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more edits and slight changes. hope you’re all enjoying the rewrite! sorry for lagging on this one, busy life and being sick was taking a toll on my creativity. 
> 
> i leave for vacation in a little over a week so i will try to post another chapter or two before that (and hopefully update my other WIP too if you’re reading that) so keep an eye out. 
> 
> fiction n stuff.

"I'm sorry, who? " Timmy pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. Apparently the studio wants him to film with another newcomer and he is confused why the turnaround is even happening.

"What was wrong with the last guy?" he interrupts, doesn't even give his assistant a chance to answer his question. "That Hammer guy, whatever." Timmy is all nonchalance but his averted gaze makes his assistant raise an eyebrow. Ever since the shoot, his ass has thought of little else - not that he’d ever admit that openly. 

"He said he's done. Only wanted to do the one, I guess."

Timmy scoffs. He runs a hand down his thigh, appreciating the cool silk of the white kimono draping his long, slender body. This is his usual at home attire and he is completely naked underneath because he loves the way the fabric feels against his cock. Armie Hammer coming up in conversation makes it necessary for him to cross his legs.

"It was a hit," he says, thinking out loud. He doesn't understand how anyone could turn down the opportunity for another shoot with that much money being offered.

"He said he's not into it." His assistant shrugs her shoulders again.

Timmy rolls his eyes, pushing himself off of his plush lounge chair and walks across the room. "Text me his number, I'll talk to him myself." He stops before exiting and offers a polite smile. "Please?" he coos.

His assistant chuckles and nods, voice dripping with familiar sarcasm, "as you wish, Mr. Chalamet."

Timmy winks and exits the room with a wicked grin on his face. 

-

Armie isn't sure how many times the title menu of the porno in his blu-ray player has looped but he is certain the ridiculous saxophone will be stuck in his head all day. His cock is sore from jerking off every night since the shoot but he still, he’s deeply considering putting on the copy of the film he shot with Timmy. It's still wrapped in plastic, begging him from his coffee table, Timmy's exaggerated o-face on the cover.

"Fuck it," Armie mumbles as he tears open the case. The screen is loading when his phone buzzes and with an aggressive sigh, he walks into the kitchen to pull his iphone from the counter. He doesn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

“Armie Hammer,” Timmy sings through his phone. Armie is impressed by the muscle memory in his cock because he throbs as soon as he hears Timmy’s warm vocals.

"Who is this?" Armie asks, unconvincingly because Timmy laughs so loud that he pulls the phone away from his ear. What an arrogant little brat.

“It's Timothée Chalamet. Have you forgotten me already?”

Armie doesn't need to see Timmy's face to know the mocking pout that's on his lips. He's nowhere near close to forgetting Timmy, unfortunately. His cock throbs again. Armie swallows a breath to compose himself as he yanks his pants down to his ankles and wraps a palm around his swollen dick.

"Timmy. Sure, yeah..how can I help you?"

“One film, huh? That’s enough for you?”

Armie is silent for a moment, contemplating. Timmy clearly knows he turned down the offer so there’s no point denying… however, having to reject Timmy directly, makes him feel guilty for some reason.

"It was just a trial run. I'm not meant for the adult film business."

Timmy hums in disagreement. “Well, your cock sure is.”

Armie wants to hear Timmy say cock over and over again. He closes his eyes, slowly dragging his hand over his length, let’s his mind play a gorgeous loop of Timmy's mouth forming the word cock.

“It's so rare to find someone with such an impressive turnaround for getting hard. Your cock is unbelievable,” Timmy sighs but realizes how candid he’s being so he clears his throat. “Professionally speaking,” he adds at the last moment. 

"You think so?" Armie smirks, his tone is biting and uncharacteristically playful and Timmy fucking loves it.

“I know for a fact, Mr. Hammer. I have first hand experience.” His ass and mouth do, that’s for sure. 

Armie's cock is hard as a fucking rock. He looks over his shoulder to see that the menu for their film has loaded and suddenly he’s overwhelmed by the sheer luck of the moment — he has now been gifted the opportunity to jerk off to Timmy’s voice over the phone. Realistically, he knows he’s still going to jerk off to their porno afterward.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Timmy. That was it for me." Armie is apologetic and sincere when he speaks and Timmy recognizes his last chance to make an impression. He changes his tone, something more compassionate.

“Why don't you let me buy you dinner? I just need an hour of your time so you can hear me out and if you still don't think it's right for you then I'll,” Timmy sighs for dramatics, “regrettably, let you go.”

Armie is silent for a moment as he holds his breath and continues to slowly yank his cock back and forth. He remembers the taste of Timmy’s cum.

“Armie?”

He's going to come if Timmy says his name again. He holds his breath and prays for just one more.

“Aaarrrmiiiee?” Timmy fucking purrs. Armie's hand tightens around the base of his cock as he comes in hot spurts all over his kitchen floor. There's two more seconds of silence and Armie tries desperately not to give himself away. 

"Okay," he finally breathes, his hands shaking.

“Tonight? I'll text you my address.”

"Okay."

“See you later, Mr. Hammer.” Armie can hear Timmy smiling. “Take care of yourself for me, okay?”

Armie wonders what the fuck that's supposed to mean but the call disconnects before he can ask.

-

Timmy is still wearing his white kimono when he opens the front door.

"Armie!" Timmy sounds like he's surprised to see him there. Armie is open-mouthed, looking Timmy over with reserve and a hint of inappropriate curiosity.

"Come in," Timmy steps back, wisps of the garment billowing around his legs. Coincidentally, Timmy keeps the belt very loose so olive skin peeks out through thin openings as he moves. Armie realizes he's staring so he takes a break to get his shit together. He smiles, walking in and bowing his head slightly so that he doesn't knock himself out on the low-hanging door frame. Timmy's place is more modest than he imagined but then again, he didn’t know what he’d expected. Timmy is an enigma. 

"I was just about to get changed," Timmy lies, smiling. "I'll be right back. Make yourself at home." He exits the room with a twirl of fabric fanning out behind him. Armie stares, hoping to get exactly what he wants; an eyeful of creamy soft thighs and side-ass. Which he does, thank god. 

He’s too polite to snoop around Timmy's apartment so he takes an apprehensive seat on the plush, bright red sofa against the wall and waits. Next to him is a shelf with every film Timmy has ever made and as he scans the shelves he curses under his breath because, fuck, Timmy is beautiful, even in small print photos on the spine of the blu-ray cases.

Timmy comes out dressed in black jeans and a white turtleneck. Armie is even more attracted to him. He’s never seen him in anything other than a robe or completely naked. 

"Tea?" Timmy asks from over the kitchen bar.

"I'm not much of a tea drinker. Anything stronger?" 

Armie leans into the sofa. It's really fucking comfortable. He wonders absentmindedly how many people Timmy has fucked on it. Timmy is humming as he shuffles along the kitchen. The sound of bare feet padding on tile reminds Armie of their shoot. He is praying to fucking anything that his dick doesn't get hard while he’s here. 

Timmy walks out with a bottle of blue label Johnnie Walker.

"Holy shit," Armie is definitely getting hard. 

"You like?" Timmy grins as he pours two glasses. They each take a slow sip, their eyes locking together. Armie practically moans with satisfaction, Timmy smiles with pride and thinks about how Armie definitely has the best smile he has ever seen.

"Should I order some food?" Timmy remembers he promised dinner. Armie shakes his head.

“I'll happily drink whiskey for dinner." Armie takes another sip, sighing blissfully.

"Man after my own heart," Timmy winks. Armie tries not to choke.

-

Timmy decides to bring up the offer once they've played an embarrassing amount of video games and Armie accidentally breaks one of the controllers from jumping up too fast after a very intense round of Mario Kart, which he lost.

"Fuck, shit, Fuck. I'm sorry. I'll get you a new one." 

Timmy giggles from the couch, shakes his head. "That's okay. I don't really play often." 

Armie is confused by that statement because there's literally every game console sold on Timmy's shelf but he shrugs it off. He falls back into the couch and Timmy scoots closer. Armie knows what's coming as Timmy looks him over and despite the fact that he has literally been balls deep inside of Timmy, he feels shy. Exposed.

"Why won't you accept the offer?" Timmy asks directly, his casual tone replaced with sharp curiosity. Armie sighs, shrugging again. He realizes getting drunk was a bad idea because how is he supposed to say no to those gorgeous greens, cherry lips, and god forsaken curls.

"Porn isn't what I want to do with my life," Armie   
answers, trying to turn his gaze but Timmy shifts and demands his attention.

"Why?"

Armie sighs heavily. This can go on forever so he decides to be blunt. Fuck it.

"My accomplishments in life should not include, fucking, pornography. I'm supposed to explain that to my kids someday? No, thanks."

Timmy's mouth forms an "oh" and he leans back, crossing his arms and legs, smirking. Armie wants to come all over his cheeky fucking grin.

"You think you're better than porn." It isn't a question. 

Armie clenches his jaw, stays quiet. Timmy runs a hand over his chin, deep in thought, bringing his fingers to his neck. Armie wonders if Timmy's ever been choked, wonders if he'd like it.

"What if I sweetened the offer?"

Armie gulps, shaking his head. "I don't think there's anything you can offer that would make me say yes." Armie doesn't believe his own damn self as he speaks which he’s sure is obvious. Timmy is completely turned on by the challenge.

"What if I were to offer something. Say, oh, off the top of my head...you can do one thing to me. Anything."

Armie considers, wants to ask a million questions, wants to say no, wants to get the fuck out of there.

Instead he says, "I want to come on you." He should be embarrassed by how quickly the words leave his mouth. He’s not. Timmy looks surprised, pleased, worried.

"One of the stipulations in my contract is that no one comes on me. It's my job; I get to paint all the pretty faces." 

Armie isn't sure how to hide his boner or subdue his heavy breathing. He wishes this conversation had happened earlier over the phone while he was jerking off — he would have came twice, three if you count the jerk off session immediately after the call. Timmy stands up and starts to walk away from the sofa. Armie feels embarrassed, perverted. He moves to get up.

"Where are you going?" Timmy stops, turning to look over his shoulder.

"Home. It's against your contract, right?"

Timmy laughs. He reaches for the curtains and yanks them shut. "It is. So...that just means you'll have to come on me right here, right now."

Armie is literally standing in the center of the living room with an outrageous hard on while the Mario Kart theme song is playing in the background. He knows the tune will be stuck in his head for weeks. 

"One condition though," Timmy walks back over to Armie. He takes his hand and pulls him closer, leans into his ear and whispers, "you have to lick your own come off of me after."


	4. i know that’s what you’re into

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello to all the lovely people that have been re-reading this and also to those that are new to the story! more edits and changes have been made so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I’m leaving on vacation next week so I don’t want to promise an update before then but I’ll try my best!
> 
> blah blah fiction and stuff.

"What are you doing?" Timmy asks seriously despite the smile on his face. "The condom? I said you could come on me, I didn't say anything about fucking me."

Armie is confused. "What?" He puts the condom he pulled out back into his wallet, his cheeks flushed red. He had just assumed fucking would be involved and now he feels embarrassed. Timmy strokes a finger down his strong jawline, over his lip, tilting his head like he pities him. 

"I fuck as my career, Armie — anyone outside of that needs to be really fucking special."

"I just assumed - " Armie starts but Timmy presses his finger over his mouth to stop him, which he’s fucking thankful for because he was about to make an ass out of himself. Of course this is just business, why would he ever think otherwise?

"Shut the fuck up and get your dick out already, Hammer," Timmy smiles, his eyes impatient. He walks over to the sofa and takes a seat, turns off the television so the silence between them is thick with anticipation. He stares openly at Armie, waiting, licking his lips, fluttering his lashes. He’s been looking forward to seeing Armie's pretty cock again.

"Where do you want me to come?" Armie asks, his mouth dry with nerves as he sloppily kicks his socks, shoes, and pants off. He doesn't care that his swift movements make him look desperate; he gets to come on Timothée Chalamet so of- fucking-course he's desperate.

"Where would you like to come, Armie?" Timmy asks, looking thoughtful, seductive. "You're the one that has to lick it up afterwards so make it count."

Armie's brain goes off like siren. He walks over to Timmy, who is eye level with his dick as he sits on the edge of the sofa. Suddenly, Armie feels confident, ready. As much as he wants to see Timmy's mouth dripping with his come, to glaze the sinful curve of his lips, watch the fullness of his bottom lip glisten with his seed...he also can't miss this opportunity to devour Timmy's ass, inside and out.

"Bend over," Armie demands. Timmy's jaw drops slightly in surprise. His cock stands at attention.

"Ohh, yes, sir," Timmy hums. He wonders if this is how Armie really is in bed, demanding, controlling; hot as fuck.

Timmy stands up, his eyes never leaving Armie's as he unzips his jeans and kicks them off. He never bothered to put on underwear. They each have the urge to kiss each other but both ignore it - there are more important things to take care of.

-

Timmy is bent over the arm of his sofa, ass up, legs spread, and he’s ever so grateful for the full length mirror that's opposite him because he has a perfect view of Armie jacking off behind him.

Armie wishes that Timmy would stop making eye contact because he can't decide if he wants to look at Timmy's face or the perfect curve of his small, round little ass. They're both fucking beautiful, how is he supposed to decide?

"Would you like some dirty talk?" Timmy grins at the mirror. He had realized quickly that Armie wasn’t a fan of the cheesy porno dialogue in their script and yet — he was always so responsive. 

Armie's eyes are intense and focused because he hates how he wants dirty talk but he also doesn't want Timmy to know how much power he has over his cock. He shakes his head. 

“No.”

"You sure, Daddy?" Timmy moans and bites his lip like the true star he is. "I can't wait to have your hot come dripping down my —"

Armie loses control of his own body and slaps Timmy's ass, hard, to shut him up. He doesn't want to come yet, he wants to enjoy this view of Timmy’s glorious ass for as long as he can and if he keeps talking like that, it’ll be over way too soon.

Timmy whimpers upon contact, his own cock so achingly hard that he decides to press his hips into the arm of the sofa for friction, hoping that alleviating some pressure will prevent him from asking Armie to smack his ass again because who the fuck does he think he is for slapping his ass?

"Fine," Timmy glares as if he's offended.

Armie smirks, realizing how turned on he is by Timmy's sudden willingness to obey but instantly misses his smart-ass mouth as well. He pulls his shirt over his neck, letting it cling to his shoulders so that it doesn't get in the way as he fists his cock against Timmy's perfectly puckered asshole. It's so goddamn tempting to press the tip of his dick against the tight entrance, to smear precum against the hole, but he doesn't want to cross any lines so instead he hovers just enough, his knuckles grazing over smooth taint and balls as he strokes his impossibly hard cock. 

They both whine and pant like this is the best thing that has ever happened to them. Armie is sure that it is, at least for him. 

"I'm going to.." Armie grunts, spilling ribbons of hot come all over Timmy's ass.

"Fuck yes," Timmy sighs with need, hips bucking hard against the sofa while his ass also juts out in search of the heat of Armie’s cock and come. 

Armie is impressed at how far his orgasm travels, up Timmy's lower back, over half of his left ass cheek, even down the back of his thigh. On the come down he leans forward, making sure to smear the rest into Timmy's crack. He watches with pride as it leaks down to exactly where he wants his tongue to be. Timmy bites his lip, basking in the warmth that spreads down his body. 

"Now clean me off, Armie." 

Timmy doesn't allow himself to come, despite his effort against the arm of the sofa but only because he knows Armie would like that too much. He bites his lip hard enough to ignore the excitement throbbing in his dick and waits in anticipation for the velvet heat of Armie’s mouth and tongue. 

They make eye contact in the mirror and Timmy flashes a Cheshire smile, all teeth and charm and Armie drops down to his knees in an instant. He’s never tasted his own come before but he shamefully admits to himself that he’d be willing to try anything that was smeared over Timmy's asshole.

Timmy's feels a strange rush of excitement but attributes it to his obvious attraction to Armie. He can't remember the last time he fooled around with anyone outside of work but what was happening between them, it was clearly physical.

After a few moments of silence, Timmy wiggles his hips and ass as if to say what the fuck are you waiting for?

-

Armie's tongue is fucking him slowly - tortuously slow, painfully slow, and Timmy gives in and let's himself start to rock back and forth against the strong muscle so that he's both fucking himself and being fucked, on and by Armie's tongue

"How does it taste?" Timmy asks, resisting the urge to swipe some of Armie's come from his skin to taste it himself. Armie just hums in response, his tongue far too busy to respond properly.

Timmy wants to fucking cry because the vibrations of Armie's response go straight to his prostate and holy fuck, how expensive was this couch? Would a little come ruin it? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Armie is sure he’s found nirvana; the salty tang of his come mixed with the sweet and warm taste of Timmy is making his cock hard again and it takes all of his will power not to start stroking himself. His hands find their way up Timmy's ass, dragging his come over soft skin all the way up to Timmy's hips. He pulls Timmy's waist towards him just as Timmy pushes back and suddenly Armie's tongue is so far inside that he's fucking suffocating between Timmy's cheeks.

Armie is certain if he dies like this then he'll have no regrets because this is actually heaven.

"Oh, shit," Timmy realizes he's about to come, despite all his efforts but now he's too far gone to care. Armie feels Timmy's ass tighten and he still can't breathe but he continues to plunge his tongue in and out, in and out.

"Armie, Armie, Armie," Timmy cries, Armie's tongue conducting his orgasm like it's a masterpiece sonata. Timmy comes, hands gripping the sofa so hard that he tears part of the cotton fabric. 

After he rides it out, they both collapse into a heap of bliss on the floor. It's silent for a few minutes, just pants and the smell of semen and sweat. Armie wishes the scent could be captured and sold as some sort of erotic candle.

"What do you say, Hammer, have a change of heart?" Timmy eventually breaks the silence, turning his head lazily to look at Armie. He realized how worried he is that Armie will say no. He doesn’t want to miss a chance to experience his cock, and now also his mouth, again because if that's what Armie's tongue can do…

Armie chuckles, his face flush, cock still half hard against his thigh. 

"After that - you leave me no fucking choice."

Timmy smiles like he's won the lottery.

-

Armie signs on for five more films, Timmy's exclusive partner in all of them. Knowing that they are contractually obligated to fuck at least five more times over the next year delights the hell out of both of them. 

The deal is for so much money, too much money. Money that Armie doesn't even need, nor know what to do with, but he knows deep down that that’s not why he’s doing this — not anymore. 

There is no hesitation when Armie drags a pen over the contract, signing his name in a gorgeous loop of lettering. _Armie Hammer_ is now his official porn star name because, as Timmy said, “Why the fuck would you change it? It's perfect."

Timmy watches Armie with unabashed intensity, trying to read his expression, his thoughts, his emotions. He wonders if Armie's eyes have always been so blue? His voice so belly-rumbling deep? His smile so charming?

Eventually everyone shakes hands, congratulates each other and finally leaves the room. Armie lingers in the doorway, waiting for Timmy, but he tries to play it off like he's checking something on his phone. Timmy knows better.

"Telling your folks the big news?" Timmy teases, sticking his tongue between his teeth.

Armie huffs, shakes his head, then shoves his phone into his pocket.

“Fuck 'em," Armie laughs, trying to sound nonchalant but Timmy can hear the strain in his voice. He contemplates a personal question but decides against it. This is a happy moment, after all, for both of them — and their mutually attracted cocks.

Timmy reaches out and places his palm against Armie's cheek, scruff tickling the inner skin of his hand. 

"Congratulations, Mr. Hammer. You're going to be a star."

Armie inhales, resisting the temptation to turn his head and press his lips against the tender skin of Timmy's thin wrist, like a gentle kiss of gratitude. He also wants to slam him against the wall and fuck him.

"I don't want to be a star," Armie swallows back.

Timmy hesitates and it's the first time that Armie has ever seen him consider what to say next. Timmy is always seems so sure of himself, so willing to say  
whatever is on his mind with no regard to others. Armie finds this contemplative look on Timmy unnerving but also kind of adorable.

"What do you want?" Timmy's eyes drag upwards from Armie's lips just as Armie's trail down to his mouth. They stare at one another in silence.

"Not sure." Armie's throat is dry. 

Timmy's lips curl at the corner in a sideways smirk, his lashes fluttering. He hums pointedly, his arrogance and confidence seemingly restored.

Timmy's hand suddenly slaps Armie's cheek, hard. 

"If you say so," Timmy sighs, disappointed.

Armie looks equal parts turned on and pissed off, which just how Timmy likes it.

-

"Third film, we're half way done." 

Timmy crosses one bare leg over the other, his thigh spilling through the gap in his robe. Armie doesn't bother to be discreet anymore; it's been six months and it's obvious how strong their chemistry is, how attracted they are to one another, so he stares openly at Timmy — lustfully and happily.

"Half way," Armie repeats thoughtfully, his eyes moving from white thighs to green eyes. Timmy keeps smiling like he always does when he catches Armie eye fucking him. He loves it, they both do. 

"Don't you think we should celebrate?" Timmy asks, eyes unrelenting.

"Such as?" Armie asks in confusion because he's about to be ass-to-mouth with Timmy in twenty minutes for their next scene, what better a way to celebrate than that?

"I was thinking something just for us," Timmy grins, slowly uncrossing his leg, pink cock visible between his robe as he crosses the next leg over. It's very Basic Instinct and Armie's mouth is fucking watering. He doesn't bother to hide his thickening cock and instead palms it over his jeans to alleviate the building pressure. 

"Everyone gets to share our moments. I want us to do something that no one will ever know about,” Timmy explains. Armie almost brings up the time he ate his own come out of Timmy's ass, which was already seemed to be their special moment, but he quickly shuts his damn mouth. If Timmy wanted another special something, he’d regret saying something to convince him otherwise.

Timmy stands up, his fingers quick to untie the belt around his waist. He lets his robe flow freely to the floor behind him as he prowls over to Armie.

"I want to come inside of you,” Timmy growls in a low whisper against Armie's earlobe. “So deep inside of you that when you're fucking me out there, you'll feel me slowly dripping out of you each time you pound into my ass.” 

He slides his finger down Armie's bare chest to the top button of his jeans, hooking it over the waist and teasing the patch of thick pubic hair underneath.

“You want to fuck me?" Armie asks, looking up as Timmy hovers over him. Timmy laughs, shaking his head, curls flying all over the place, chin tilted back.

"I’m going to fuck you,” Timmy states as he bites down against collar bone. 

Armie responds by shoving Timmy backwards so he can stand up. They keep constant eye contact as he strips his jeans completely off then walks over to the sofa on the other side of the room, climbing onto it and immediately takes position on his hands and knees.


	5. why won't you just tell me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back from vacation! here's an update! we're almost caught up from where we left off before the delete-a-thon, so that's exciting! :D  
> thank you all for comments and love -- i need all the validation i can get. eeeep.
> 
> anyway, this is all fiction and blah blah blah.

"Get yourself ready for me," Timmy demands, not unwilling to put in the effort himself but he wants to see Armie with his fingers bent inside of himself, desperately anticipating his cock. He strokes himself as he watches Armie slick his fingers with saliva, spread open his  
impossibly long legs, meaty thighs, and slide two digits inside with a grunt.

  
"Fuck, Armie. You really want me to fuck you, don't you?" Timmy already knows the answer and he's just flattered as fuck, his cock already painful between his legs. He grips himself to keep calm. Armie calls him an "asshole" while going knuckle deep inside of himself, working the muscle open as quickly as possible.Timmy is too impatient to wait much longer. He wants it to hurt, wants it to sting badly enough that Armie has think about his cock for the next 48 hours, wants his cock to chafe so that he remembers what it was like to be inside of that perfect ass.

  
"Turn around," Timmy demands. Armie flips over, knees on the cushions, hands gripping the back of the leather sofa. "You have a really nice ass, Mr. Hammer," Timmy sounds so genuine that it almost ruins the heat of the moment. He slaps his palm down so hard against Armie's ass cheek that he forgets to say "thank you." Timmy tells him he needs to work on his manners.

Armie's entrance is lathered with lube haphazardly while Timmy uses the remainder to layer over his cock. No condom necessary, thank fucking god. It's been a long time since Timmy has topped anyone but staring down at Armie's perky round ass, he thinks of how worth the fucking wait it’s been.

Timmy's dick is halfway inside of Armie when there's a knock at the door.

  
"Fuck!" Armie panics, starting to pull away but Timmy digs his fingers into the skin of Armie's hips to lock his cock inside of his asshole. It'll leave a mark, maybe even a bruise, he hopes.

  
“10 minute warning!” Someone calls from behind the door.

  
"Okay! Fuck off, now! Thank you!" Timmy sings, a smug grin on his face. Everyone is used to how he is on set so no one will know any better, no one will know he's nearly balls deep in his costar without obligation, just because they fucking want to.

"Calm the fuck down," Timmy laughs.

  
"You're a fucking asshole," Armie sighs.  
  
"I know," Timmy beams, thrusting his cock forward so Armie bottoms out, his ass swallowing his cock admirably. Armie doesn't know how soundproof the walls are so he bites down on his arm, uncaring if there's a mark left behind. Timmy feels too good, too fucking good. His hands are kneading and spreading the firm and supple cheeks of Armie's ass, his cock sliding in and out, back and forth and it's pure fucking heaven. He thinks he could die happily if it meant being buried between Armie's round ass.

  
"I was wrong," Timmy grunts, "you have a perfect ass. _Perfect. Fucking. Ass_ ," he whines in sync with the slap of skin against skin, his cock already aching painfully. He knows he can't take much more of the silky perfection that is Armie’s insides. Armie resists the urge to jerk himself off because he has to fuck Timmy after this and he wants to be able to fill him up with everything he’s got. They both want to walk around all day knowing their come is inside of one another.

Timmy reaches out, grabbing a fist full of Armie's hair to steady himself as he fucks his cock as hard as he can into _the most_ perfect ass in existence, he’s decided.

  
"I'm going to come," Timmy whimpers, fist tightening, balls tightening, Armie's ass tightening around his cock. It's all too fucking much.

  
" _Fuck._ Armie. Armie, Armie." Armie loves when Timmy says his name because he's not supposed to say it while they're filming. It reminds him that this is personal, this is theirs.

Timmy fills Armie up with his come, his cock still throbbing as he pathetically thrusts the last few hot spurts inside. He pulls out and steps back to appreciate his handy work. Armie reaches back, dips a finger inside himself, then sucks on the come that sticks to his skin, unable to resist the opportunity to taste Timmy.

  
"Fucking filthy," Timmy grins with pride. After a moment, Armie stands up then turns around, his cheeks flushed and his cock painfully hard. Timmy already has his robe back on and he ties it up quickly. Armie frowns as disappointment washes over him. He wanted to see what Timmy’s cock looked like after being inside of him.

  
"Well," Timmy shrugs and walks over to the door slowly. He puts his hand on the knob and looks over his shoulder at Armie, "congratulations on completing your contract, Mr. Hammer."

  
The door swings open and Timmy walks out, leaving it wide open so Armie is standing there, cock fucking ready, come dripping down between his thighs for the whole set to see.

  
"Spoiled fucking brat."

  
  
-

  
"This tea is fucking cold." Everyone scatters because Timmy has zero patience today.

"How do you expect me to suck his fucking monster cock with cold tea?" There's no shame in the way that he points at Armie, who is trying his best not to smile because even though he's annoyed, embarrassed, amused; he is also kind of proud of his dick. Timmy's assistant rushes to bring him a new cup of tea. The scene is postponed for fifteen minutes so he can drink it alone, in peace. Timmy leaves in a huff, his bare legs slipping out of his robe as he stomps up a set of stairs. Armie knows it's probably a bad idea but he follows regardless, indifferent to the eyes that watch him as he takes the steps two at a time.

Timmy is sitting down on the edge of a small bed, one that he's meant to jerk off in later. Later, once the sun goes down and Armie will be gone for the day. Gone for good. Timmy tries not to think about it as he stares out an open window. The tea burns his tongue as he sips but he's indifferent to the pain and he wonders what the fuck is wrong with him.

  
"Timmy?" Armie sounds unsure from the doorway. Timmy whips around so quickly he almost spills his tea.

  
"What?" Timmy is annoyed because he didn't expect it to be Armie but of course it's Armie. He tries to ignore the debilitating beat of his heart in his throat.

  
"Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you're alright. You seem a little - "

Timmy raises an eyebrow, smirking as he waits him to finish his sentence, daring him to finish it. Armie clenches his jaw and decides to just shut the fuck up. Timmy laughs bitterly. Armie doesn't need to say it because they both already know.

  
"More so than usual?" Timmy offers, knowing exactly how people talk about him on set, the names they call him behind his back. Timmy doesn't know why he feels offended when he imagines Armie doing the same. Armie shakes his head and slowly enters the room. His long legs mean he's at the edge of the bed in front of Timmy by three steps.

  
"Are you okay, though?" Armie nudges Timmy's leg with his knee.

Timmy nods slowly, drawing his voice out just above a whisper, "just peachy."

Armie doesn't believe him. Their knees stay connected and he nudges him one more time.

  
"Is it normal to feel this way on the last day of shooting?" Armie asks, bashful and uncertain. Timmy doesn't expect the candor and he looks up, his eyes wide as they stare into Armie's.

"Feel what way?" Timmy feigns confusion but he knows; this is the final film in the contract and then it'll all be over. They're both devastated but Armie doesn't know how to say it and Timmy won't even admit it to himself, which is why he's so fucking irritable.

Armie simply laughs, shaking his head as he takes a step back. Timmy feels panic as he retreats and knows he's losing his chance. He reaches out suddenly and wraps both hands around Armie's thigh, which is completely exposed since the robe he's wearing barely covers his dick. (Timmy may or may not have had something to do with all the robes on set being one size too small.)

"No, Armie. Tell me."

Armie just shrugs, the doubt clear in his blue eyes. Timmy wants to kiss his eyelids; reassure him.

"It's stupid...I mean, it's just. It’s just fucking porn," Armie breathes bitterly. Timmy recoils his hands as if he's been burned.

  
"Yes, Mr. Hammer. It is just porn." He rolls his eyes.

Armie realizes he fucked up, that he said something very wrong, he just has no fucking clue what. Timmy doesn't give him a chance to recover and instead stands up to leave. He pushes Armie out of the way with his shoulder.

"Grow the fuck up and let me suck your dick one last time," Timmy says with a tight smile before leaving the room.

  
-

  
"This is it." Armie feels the strain in his voice. The silence is fucking painful as they lay in a disheveled bed, naked, pressed against each other.

  
"I know." Timmy doesn't allow himself to say anything more because he doesn't trust his voice not to give him away. Armie leans in, taking advantage of the privacy while the lights are being set up. He kisses Timmy on the throat where two prominent freckles constantly torment him.Timmy swallows and away. It took him months to get used to Armie going off script, peppering him with small kisses, gentle touches in places he wasn't supposed to. So fucking unprofessional but now he loves it and wants to cry thinking about those little touches being gone. So. Goddamn. Unprofessional. Both of them.

  
"They offered me another contract," Armie confesses against Timmy's neck.Timmy already knew but he told himself not to get his hopes up; Armie was a rising star now, he would need to fuck other porn stars, share his beautiful fucking cock with whoever he could. That was the point, wasn't it?

"Oh?" Timmy still isn't looking at Armie. “Did you accept?”

"I'm done after this. I'm leaving."

"Why?"

"I don't want to do this anymore."

Timmy isn't sure what Armie means by “this.” Pornography? Him? He hopes Armie means he's done being vague and confusing as fuck because it's exhausting. There’s more silence between them that feels palpable and disarming.

  
"The contract...what was it for?" Timmy finally meets Armie’s eye, his gaze intense as always.  
Armie doesn't want to tell him the details but he does any way because now that Timmy's eyes are on him he can't help himself. He never can when it comes to Timmy, which is a big part of the problem.

  
"Some artsy erotic bullshit film with a director named Luca."

  
Timmy's mouth falls open in shock, despair. "And you said no? You're a fucking idiot."

  
Armie laughs but notices the way Timmy's voice rises in an usual way. "Yeah, I know."

  
"What am I going to do with you, Armie Hammer?"

Armie searches desperately over Timmy's face, looking for something that he knows isn't there. He opens his mouth to speak but they call for the scene to start. He falls back against the pillow in defeat and contemplates his entire life before Timmy gives him the most enthusiastic blow job he's ever received.

 

-

 

"So you're sure you don't want to reconsider, Mr. Hammer? I know Luca would be willing to negotiate if it's about the money."

  
Armie waves his hand in front of his face. "It's not about money. I'm not going to reconsider; I'm done." What the fuck was wrong with people in this industry?

There's a knock on the door and Armie recognizes Timmy's assistant as she pokes her head into the room.

  
"I'm sorry to interrupt! I just needed to see Mr. Hammer for a moment before he leaves set today."

Armie looks confused, worried. Timmy's assistant smiles and invites herself in, shuffling a few papers in her hand as she takes a seat. She explains quickly that Timmy has agreed to donate seventy-five percent of his earnings from their film to a few charities she runs. She asks him if he has any interest in contributing.

  
"Timmy donates to charity?" Armie's tone is so fucking rude and he's embarrassed by it but he’s shocked.  
  
Timmy's assistant just smiles, nods her head. "Frequently."

Armie decides to donate all of his earnings and signs the papers without hesitation. Timmy's assistant thanks him and stands up to leave but the woman Armie is having a meeting with stops her.

  
"Before you go! Mr. Hammer here has officially turned down the offer for the Guadagnino film.” The two women frown between each other. “Would you let Mr. Chalamet know that I'll be on the hunt to find his replacement love interest right away."

  
Armie nearly falls out of his chair.


	6. your heart is strange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i promise i haven't forgotten about this story.   
> updates here just take a bit longer... so i'm sorry for that but i appreciate the patience.   
> we're almost caught up on the reposting, hooray! i'm excited to get to the ""new"" stuff.
> 
> fiction! of course! only in my dreaaaams is this real.

“This is a golden fucking opportunity, Armie.”

“For what?”

“For you to finally take me on a date, obviously.”

“In your dreams, Nick.”

“Yeah, my _wet dreams_.”

“You’re fucking disgusting.”

Nick laughs loudly through the phone, Armie huffs with irritation. There’s a moment of silence while Nick composes himself.

“Seriously though. It’s been months, you need to get over it. This is basically the Oscars of the porn industry. You have to go.”

“You know why I can’t go.” Armie can feel Nick’s eye roll through the phone.

“Yeah, because you _fell in love with your porno co-star, who just so happens to be the world’s biggest asshole, and you’re not ‘ready to see him’._ So what? I’m a hot date, maybe you can make him jealous.”

It’s embarrassing because Armie actually considers the jealousy tactic for half a second but then realizes that Timmy has probably never been jealous of anyone in his entire life. Nick can hear Armie’s hesitation and uses the moment to swoop in.

“Do it for your fans, Armie!”

“I hate you.”

Nick is ecstatic. “Pick me up in a fucking limo and tux, okay? Let’s be obnoxious.”

Armie laughs. “When aren’t you?”

 

 -

 

Armie talks to his agent, who is floored to hear from him. She immediately tries to rope him into a million different projects but he politely turns them all down.

“Well at least consider the Luca Guadagnino film because Timothée -"

Armie cuts her off, tells her that he’s only calling to confirm the adult film convention and the awards ceremony, _absolutely nothing else._

 

-

 

Life is pretty fucking crazy because it’s been over a year since Nick convinced Armie to start shooting porn and now he’s at a convention, sharing a table next to Timmy, which feels like some sort of erotic torture he’s not into, while an enormous line of people are waiting to get their autographs. Armie has no idea how to react when people tell him things like “You’re so talented!” “I love your work!” “Your cock is my favorite cock!” “I named my son Armie!” Who fucking does that?

Armie has also lost count of the amount of times people have asked if he and Timmy are secretly dating, or at least, in love with each other.

“I know I am, but it’s not a secret.” Timmy purrs in response, giving the fans exactly what they  
Want. Armie just blushes, avoids eye contact, signs his name over someone’s ridiculous fanart of his extra veiny hard cock in Timmy’s mouth. Eventually the line dwindles down and Armie leans back in his chair, lets out a long sigh. Timmy looks over at him for the first time since they arrived that afternoon.

“Everyone loves you, Armie Hammer. You have more fans than I do.” That’s a fucking lie but Timmy feels like flattering Armie just so he can see him blush. Armie looks over at Timmy, his mouth slightly open, he shakes his head and laughs nervously. When did Timmy’s green eyes start making him physically ache?

“Don’t forget though,” Timmy moves closer, runs a hand along Armie’s thigh, only stopping when his thumb and index finger cup his inner thigh where it meets his dick. “I’m your number one fan.”

 

-

 

There is still a few hours until the awards ceremony and Armie has decided to face plant into his hotel bed while Nick rummages through random shit he bought at the convention.

“Your dick is a hot commodity. I had to fight off a mouthy middle aged woman for this bad boy.” Nick is holding up a large box, waving it around, and against his better judgement, Armie sits up and looks over.

“What the fuck, Nick? You bought my dick?”

In Nick’s defense, it’s not an _exact_ replica of his dick, because Armie would never agree to that, but instead just a monster sized dildo they slapped his name over for money. Armie was still in shock over some of the merchandise sold at the convention. He didn’t believe (or want to believe) that people actually bought this stuff but holy shit, _people actually bought this stuff._ Most items weren’t too shocking; cheap versions of Timmy’s infamous white kimono that he wore in their second film together, ceramic mugs with Timmy’s ass and dick printed everywhere, but the most unsettling is the fake replica dildo of their dick’s which were encased in a long rectangular box with a blurry screen grab of him fully naked, and a bright orange sticker slapped over his cock that reads **HAMMER!**

“Of course I did. It’ll be like fucking you without the headache that would follow after you inevitably fall in love with me.”

Armie throws a pillow at Nick, who throws his boxed silicone dick right back at him.  
Someone knocks at the door and Nick is still laughing when he pulls it open. It’s Timmy, who looks annoyed that someone other than Armie standing in front of him. Timmy wonders who the fuck is this guy and why he already dislikes him.

“Timothée Chalamet!” Nick whoops as if he couldn’t be more pleased.

“Strange... unfamiliar man in Armie’s hotel room?” Timmy shoots back, mocking enthusiasm with a bite of a smile. Armie shifts to the edge of the bed, the boxed replica dick falling into his lap. Timmy doesn’t wait for the invite to come in, just brushes past Nick who is fucking beaming, and suddenly Armie regrets having ever made friends with Nick all those years ago in high school.

“Did you seriously buy your own dick?” Timmy smiles with satisfaction, immediately recognizing the box in Armie’s lap. Timmy might have pre-ordered his own Armie box of **HAMMER,** despite knowing it’d be nothing like the real thing. Armie instantly goes red, tosses the box across the room. He winces when it opens from impact, the silicone dick flopping out. Timmy’s laugh fills the room and even though Armie wants to physically combust from embarrassment, he smiles too.

“I can’t say I blame you. It’s not the real thing but, pretty close.”

There is so much tension and silence between them while they make unwavering eye contact.  
Nick clears his throat because do they really need to eye fuck each other while he’s in the room? Armie looks at Nick as if he has no idea who he is, Timmy looks annoyed again.

“Oh. Timmy, this is my friend Nick...” Armie gives a half-ass wave towards Nick, who waves like a proud mom from across the room where he’s leaning against a desk, a big dumb smile on his face. He’s obviously amused by the mere presence of Timmy in their hotel room. Timmy looks Nick up and down, then shrugs as he decides Nick seems harmless.

“ _Friend_ Nick? I thought maybe you just had a thing for brunettes.”

“Oh, he definitely does,” Nick chimes in before Armie can say anything. Timmy grins, Nick winks, Armie looks for something else to throw across the room.

“Don’t you have somewhere else you can be right now?” Armie gives Nick a knowing glance and even though Nick desperately wants to watch whatever is about to happen, he is actually a good friend so he takes the hint. Timmy stands in silence, watching Nick leave and Armie physically can’t takes his eyes off of Timmy. How is he so pretty? The shirt he’s wearing, black and covered with hearts, should be ridiculous but with Timmy inside of it, it’s gorgeous.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show.” Timmy finally speaks, crossing the space between the room and takes a seat opposite Armie on the second bed. Their knees brush together just slightly because of Armie’s massive legs.

“I wasn’t going to but Nick convinced me.” Nick is to blame for everything, really. The convention, the porn, meeting Timmy... at least that’s what Armie has been telling himself nearly every day, since day one. Timmy hums, crossing one leg over the other. He’s wear tight black jeans that pair perfectly with the collared, heart covered button up. Armie wants to fuck him while he wears that shirt, only that shirt, then cover each individual heart with his come.

“I’ll have to thank him then. Maybe he could give me a few tips on how to best persuade you?”

Armie laughs. “I don’t know, you were pretty persuasive when you let me come on your ass,” he offers in an attempt to be funny, lighten the mood, to hopefully ease the tension between them, but Timmy’s face wavers and Armie suddenly feels like a dick.

“I just knew what was important to you at the time, so I used that to get what I wanted.”

Timmy sounds so defensive which in turns makes Armie feel offended. His face contorts, he scoffs. Did Timmy just blatantly call out the fact that he knew Armie wanted to fuck him then admit to using that fact to get him to sign the contract? How much of a selfish prick can one guy be? There’s actual pain in Armie’s chest because he feels used, betrayed and Timmy’s eyes now feel like they’re tearing him apart piece by piece. Armie looks away/

“Are you offended?” Timmy bites and Armie is confused because Timmy sounds like he’s on edge, like his voice might break at any moment. He’s the one being an asshole, so what would he have to be upset about?  
“Of course I’m fucking offended. You just admitted that you let me tongue-fuck you just so I’d sign a damn contract.”

“What other reason would I have done it?”

“Maybe because you actually just... wanted me to?” Armie regrets his words as soon as he speaks. Timmy stands slowly, Armie’s words lingering in the air between them, he hums thoughtfully as he meanders over to the discarded “replica” of Armie’s dick. Armie watches him pick it up, push it back into the box, tuck it under his arm and head towards the door.

“Mine hasn’t come in the mail yet so I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s Nick’s.”

Timmy smiles, laughs. “No, it’s mine. See you tonight, Mr. Hammer.”


	7. i'm looking for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness - WE MADE IT! this is the final re-posted chapter!   
> from here on out it'll be all ~never before read~ chapters. im so excited.  
> thanks for sticking this out with me and i hope you enjoy whats to come!  
> (pun... intended.)
> 
> fiction fiction fiction obviously.

“Are you fucking kidding me with that suit?” Armie can’t help himself, his mouth hangs open, his eyes wide. Timmy is loving every second of the attention and so he does a little spin on his heel, flattening his palms over his thin waist. The custom suit fits him like a glove.

“This old thing?” Timmy shrugs, his crooked, toothy grin a blinding contrast to the pure white/off white combo of his tuxedo. The awards ceremony starts in less than an hour and Timmy had demanded that Armie pick him up so they could arrive together. Armie knows that Timmy just wants to show up together for the attention, the pictures of them to encourage the rumors of their supposed romance. He had considered protesting but this is the end of the road for him, his last night in the porn industry, so why the fuck not. What does he have to lose?

“You look good,” Armie finally closes his mouth, his jaw clenching after he speaks. Timmy stands still for a moment, his eyes flitting from Armie’s lips to his eyes and Armie knows he’s deciding whether the compliment is genuine or not. Timmy softens finally, his chin falling just an inch, his green eyes locked on Armie’s blue and he nods ever so slightly.

“Thank you, Armie.” Something about the way Timmy says his name makes Armie shiver.

Armie is wearing a deep red velvet suit with black bow tie. His face is smooth, shaved so clean that Timmy can’t help but run his knuckles over the skin.

“Like a baby’s butt,” Timmy teases but he’s biting his lip while his knuckles linger against Armie’s cheek. Timmy wonders what those smooth cheeks would feel like against his inner thighs because Armie has always had a beard or at the very least stubble. He feels a sudden sense betrayal towards Armie when he realizes that he’ll never get a chance to find out. He reminds himself that Armie is done with filming, done with the industry, _done with him._ All at once, silence is thick in the air and Timmy sighs loudly, the change in his mood apparent.

“Ready to get this over with?” Timmy’s voice is cold, biting. Armie frowns.

-

Armie has never been to an awards show but the red carpet is similar to other events he’s attended over the past year while working with Timmy. The questions are the same, the compliments, the jokes. They smile, pose, laugh, and flirt openly. The camera loves them, especially Timmy.

Then again, everyone loves Timmy.

They drink champagne, which seems to be endlessly flowing, while they do quick on-the-spot interviews. Armie loves seeing Timmy’s cheeks turn the same pink tint as his lips - which also reminds him of the glorious tip of his pretty dick. Armie assures himself that this is a good night, that everything is going smoothly, and he thinks what better to spend my last night in the industry than this? He looks over at Timmy, who is being interviewed by a blogger. Timmy pushes back a stubborn curl, Armie’s favorite curl, and blushes. There’s no way to tell if it’s genuine or not because Timmy is an expert at putting on a show but Armie has learned to appreciate that about him - the constant unknown. It’s addicting.

Suddenly the excitement Armie felt moments ago shifts, and the air feels heavier, sullen.

“Are you admitting that there are definitely feelings involved between you and Mr. Hammer?” The bloggers face is lit up, as if they had just been gifted the most prized confession in the world. 

Timmy laughs, chin up, mouth wide open, teeth everywhere. Armie looks like a deer caught in the headlights but the blogger isn’t paying attention to him. Not that he can blame them. Who could look away when Timmy is smiling like that? He’s a literal shining star on the red carpet. 

Timmy shakes his head, curls go flying and Armie wants to run his fingers through each strand.

“I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with this guy?” Timmy shrugs, nudges a hip against Armie’s side. Armie stumbles like an idiot. Timmy gives him a look, one that says _get your shit together_ , then smiles sweetly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Armie clears his throat, suddenly catching on. He turns on the charm in an instant, not skipping a beat after how much he’s learned from Timmy this past year.

“I think I fall more and more in love with Timmy every time I see him.” Armie’s teeth shine through a crooked grin. For a moment he thinks Timmy looks proud of him but when his green eyes linger a little too long and Armie catches them, something in Timmy’s smile makes him want to apologize .

The blogger jumps in, desperate to get as much time with Timmy as possible.

“And Mr. Chalamet, how do you feel about being nominated for Male Performer of the Year?”

Timmy is still watching Armie.

“This is your third nomination! Think you’ll get it this time around?”

There’s a long, awkward moment where Armie is staring back at Timmy expectantly, the blogger is watching them both, and there is just silence. Silence and confusion.

“Tim,” Armie whispers, nods his chin, trying to snap Timmy out of it, remind him that he was just asked a question, that there are cameras around them, that they’re being interviewed. He blinks a few times until finally Timmy turns around, flashing a too wide smile but the blogger is immediately entranced again, despite the fact that Armie knows better.

“Like always, I’m just really grateful to be here."

-

Armie learns quickly that award shows are _really fucking boring._ Thank fucking god there’s free booze because after the umpteenth time of being complimented on all his “hard work” (fucking hilarious, asshole) Armie feels like he’s going to punch a wall. They fly through the categories (most of which Armie wants to laugh at but people are taking this seriously, like really fucking seriously so he holds back.) Timmy has been charming their entire table all night and Armie is mesmerized by the fact that Timmy seems carefree, open, more talkative than he’s ever seen him before.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last.

By the end of the night, Timmy has folded in on himself and Armie is still entraced because he realizes this is also something he’s never witnessed before; Timmy’s self-doubt, uncertainty. He is so nervous and Armie can tell he keeps looking around, wondering if anyone else can tell. His green eyes bounce around frantically but stop once they find Armie’s. It’s subtle, the way Timmy worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He flashes a bashful smile as if nothing is wrong. Timmy pushes back his curls, always to no avail, and shifts in his seat - right, left, right, left. Armie finds it endearing how wiggly he is.

“Timmy,” he speaks low, leaning over to occupy Timmy’s space so that he can get his full attention. Timmy looks hard at him, his eyes cast downwards slightly. 

“You got this, okay?” Armie smiles.

Timmy looks relieved for a moment but realizes Armie has figured him.

 

“I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.” He snaps.

Armie knows that Timmy means _“it’s not a big deal to you.”_

Armie shakes his head, offering Timmy a soft smile, softer than any he’s ever granted him before. Timmy looks away, shakes his head bitterly, then looks back at Armie again.

“You got this,” Armie repeats quietly.Timmy looks like he’s going to bite back again but instead he lets out a very low, deep breath. His eyes look glazed, grateful. He sighs and nods, pressing the back of his hand under his chin for support.

“And Male Performer of the Year award goes to....”

-

They’re both drunk. They’ve been celebrating all night. It’s taken Armie what feels like forever to find a minute alone with Timmy, to steal him away, and now they’re standing outside on a balcony, the cold air against their flushed, fevered skin. They both settle from laughing at some ridiculous joke Armie has just made and stand in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Timmy looks over the skyline, Armie looks at Timmy.

He’s always looking at Timmy.

“I’m really fucking happy you won tonight, Timmy. No one deserves it more than you.” Armie means every word but the smile that is on Timmy’s face suddenly transforms from amusement to annoyance.

“As if hearing that from you means anything,” Timmy laughs bitterly as he throws back the rest of his champagne. Armie frowns and takes a step forward. He shakes his head desperately because he really fucking means it and he wants Timmy to know.

“I’m serious.”

“I know what you think about the industry, Armie. I know how you feel about what we do.” Timmy   
chews his bottom lip before adding harshly, “well, what you _used_ to do, anyway.”

Armie finally gets it. He understands why Timmy thinks he’s being insincere. It’s not just about what he thinks about the adult film industry -- it’s about the fact he’s leaving it behind, leaving Timmy behind. Armie sighs, turning his body towards Timmy, feeling the familiar draw towards his body. 

It doesn’t even take a full second before Armie decides he no longer has the willpower to fight against it.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Armie’s lips are curved in subtle disbelief, despite the exasperation he feels. He thought he had been obvious this past year, figured that Timmy fucked with him so much because he knew the hold he had over him, the attraction, the desire, the pure fucking need.

Timmy looks genuinely confused. “Know what?”

Armie smiles, sips the dregs from his glass, sets it down. Timmy’s eyes follow every movement as he waits impatiently for Armie to fucking explain himself.

“Of course you don’t know.”


	8. you and i haven't got it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii.  
> only one chapter left. i'm feeling.... feeeelings.  
> thank you to everyone that has read (and reread) this story. it's been a journey and i'm scared to say goodbye but, kljsdgklsdg. i just love you, okay?
> 
> this was an intense chapter to write, but i enjoyed it.  
> i hope you all do too.  
> fiction, fiction, fiction.

Armie is still in his red velvet suit, sans tie and a few of the top buttons of his shirt, when there is a pounding at the door of his hotel room. He sighs, assuming Nick must have lost his room key and is probably too drunk to bother going to the front desk. Armie wasn't expecting his friend to come back tonight, especially after seeing him slink off with some big shot “muscle daddy” (as Nick had called him) towards the end of the night. Maybe it didn’t go as well as it seemed to be when they left, swallowing each other’s tongues into the back of a black SUV. 

Armie opens the door with flourish but is nearly knocked backwards by the sight of Timmy in the hallway. He’s wearing the most normal set of pajamas that Armie’s ever seen, and if it wasn’t for the burning look that Timmy was displaying, Armie is sure he wouldn’t have recognized his soft features, his hair wet, brushed carefully to the side, and clinging to his shoulders, fresh from a shower. 

“Tim?”

“Don’t call me that. You know I don’t like it,” Timmy grumbles with exasperation and pushes into the room without permission. Armie turns around and looks carefully at Timmy, who is barefoot and chewing on his fingertips. He closes the door but doesn’t move any closer. 

“Is everything okay?” 

Timmy wants to scoff, wants to roll his eyes, wants to say something sarcastic and maybe even insulting because Armie deserves it; he fucking teased him earlier on the balcony, led him on with implication and then...left him hanging.

“Do you only think about yourself, Hammer?” Timmy spits out harshly, as if Armie should already have an idea what he’s talking about. He does, but he won’t admit it. Armie scoffs, eyes wide.

“ _Me?_ ” Armie is offended and he looks it. 

“And don’t call me ‘Hammer’,” he adds with a bite. Timmy rolls his eyes. He puts his hands on his hips and Armie is momentarily distracted because the top of Timmy’s pajamas scrunch at his waist and his belly button pokes through the gap where he failed to do up the bottom three buttons. Timmy’s bottom lip twitches but he doesn’t smile.

“Yes, you.”

They stand there in silence, challenging each other, waiting for an explanation that they both refuse to give. Armie falters first.

“Is that all you came here for, to tell me that I’m selfish?” he asks. Timmy’s hands slide down from his waist; he wrings them together in front of his stomach. Armie is reminded of how nervous he saw Timmy during the ceremony; the uncertainty, the anticipation. Timmy shakes his head.

“I came here to get an explanation.”

“For?”

Timmy throws his head back, practically stomps his feet in protest. He knows what Armie is doing -- Armie is trying to _force him_ to say the things he’s been desperately avoiding. Timmy is so used to everyone anticipating his needs, knowing what he wants, that he’s ready to throw a temper tantrum on the spot because how on earth could one person be so infuriating? His green eyes burn when he looks back at Armie.

“Armie, please,” Timmy sulks, pulling his thumb up to his mouth and chewing at it. Armie’s never seen him do that before. They stare in silence again, Timmy’s eyes pleading. Armie feels his knees go weak and bend, moving him forward, closing the distance between them finally. He stops when he’s less than an arm’s length away.

“I ate you out,” Armie starts suddenly, his voice hard, serious. Timmy looks up through his lashes, his mouth open in mild shock, amusement, pleasure. “No, I ate _my come_ out of you,” he clarifies before continuing. “You fucked me in my dressing room. You came inside of me. You let me kiss your freckles between takes, you let me hold you beneath the sheets when it was cold on set, you fucking…” Armie takes a step forward and Timmy leans back, but holds steady. He puts his palms against Armie’s shoulders, digs his fingers down into the muscles under his suit jacket.

“And you did it all _for your fucking self._ ”

“Bullshit,” Timmy pushes forward, lifting his chin higher so that their mouths are as aligned as their height difference will allow. “That’s bullshit, Armie, you wanted it too. I know you did.” Armie doesn’t deny it, doesn’t even look ashamed of it. It’s true.

Armie looks down, his eyes cascading over every feature on Timmy’s face. His hair is still wet but the curls are starting to scrunch together at his temples and forehead. His skin is silky, dewy. He smells like sweet moisturizer but also the warm scent that Armie can never describe - it’s just _Timmy._

“You did it because you wanted something me from me. I did it because—”

“Because why?” Timmy interjects because he hears Armie’s voice trail off like it does when he doesn’t intend to finish his sentence. 

“I did it because the only thing I wanted was you.” Timmy stares hard into Armie’s eyes. Testing, waiting, calculating. Armie feels like he can see the gears of decision turning in his mind. Armie wants to regret his admission but it’s been too long now, and he’s tired of being dishonest.

“I haven’t slept with anyone other than you since we’ve met,” Timmy suddenly confesses. Armie isn’t sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or some sort of confession, so he stays quiet and waits for Timmy to explain himself. Timmy sighs, his impatience for Armie to understand him at an all time high. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, bouncing back and forth on each foot as he struggles to find the words. Why does there even have to be talking at all?

“I turned down side projects, dates, hook ups, whatever,” Timmy continues, annoyed that Armie still doesn’t get it. He huffs and throws his hands over each of Armie’s cheeks, his palms relishing in the smoothness of his clean shaved face. God, that beautiful fucking face. “Don’t you get it, Armie? I’ve only wanted to fuck _you,_ even if it meant I could only do it on a set, because of a stupid fucking contract.”

Armie’s stomach drops as he misinterprets what Timmy is saying. During the past year while Armie has been falling in love, Timmy has only wanted him for sex. He feels stupid and the shame on his face makes Timmy’s eyes blink in confusion.

“I’m not going to sign the contract, Timmy. Is that what you’re really here for? All of this is just some fucked up, feeble attempt at flattery so that I’ll make another movie with you and we can keep fucking and pretending like there isn’t anything more to it? Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Armie steps back, making Timmy’s hands fall with a slap to his side. Timmy suddenly looks scared, his eyebrows are knitted together so tightly that his entire forehead is wrinkled. He shakes his head, his mouth slack in disbelief.

“The contract? This isn’t about the contract. Fuck the contract,” he laughs bitterly as he reaches out to grab Armie’s face again. He lets him. Timmy takes a step forward so his body is flush against Armie’s, no distance left between them. Everything he’s been saying is wrong and for the first time in his life, he realizes that Armie won’t give him what he wants, unless he tells him exactly what it is.

“When I found out you refused the contract, I was angry but not because of the money and not because we wouldn’t get to fuck,” Timmy smiles so fucking softly as he mentions them fucking and Armie nearly melts on the spot. Another expression he’s never seen on Timmy’s face before. Timmy stands up on his tiptoes and Armie can taste him, he can feel the warmth of his breath, the tender press of his lips against his mouth.

“I was angry because I knew it meant I’d never get to see you again.”

-

"Can I kiss you?" Timmy whispers but he's already moving in. He looks at Armie with soft green eyes and a knowing smile. That fucking smile. Armie is done for. He nods slowly, swallowing back the onset of nerves in his belly because they have never kissed outside of work before.

Timmy presses soft lips over the smooth skin of his chin first, his lips parted just enough so that Armie can feel the tip of his warm, wet tongue. Armie’s cock is already aching between his legs.

“You are by far the most frustrating human on the entire fucking planet,” Armie all but growls into the space between Timmy’s open mouth as it arrives over his. He smiles when he feels the curve of Timmy’s pride turning his lips upward with a smile of his own. Always so fucking proud of himself.

They make their way to the bed, Armie removing his suit jacket, tie, and anything else he can in the short time it takes to get there. Timmy waits at the edge until Armie is sitting back against the headboard, then crawls over to him, straddles each leg over his lap. Timmy’s palms and fingers slip under Armie’s shirt and he pushes the fabric off his shoulders in a swift motion as he leans in to kiss again, making sure their mouths never part, their tongues exploring and tasting and appreciating each other in a way they have never been able to before.

It’s just the two of them now, finally: no cameras, no set, no blocking or script. No one else. 

“Tell me what you like, Armie,” Timmy keens as he pulls back, only so he can start unbuttoning his own shirt. He wants to know everything about Armie; about his body, what he really likes in bed, what he hates, how he sounds, _really_ sounds when he’s lost in bliss, how he likes to be touched, if he fucks any different, any better. Timmy is hard with anticipation. 

“I just want you. The real you,” Armie leans in to pepper kisses against Timmy’s throat. They both sigh with delight. “Fuck me like no one is watching.”

“Armie,” Timmy mewls, something about the way Armie’s words are spoken hits him in the center of his chest. He swallows nervously. Armie peels back the top of Timmy’s pajamas, his mouth open and ready to devour the skin underneath but something stops him. He sits back and squints at the print on the inner lining of Timmy’s pajama top, trying to decipher the shapes.

“Are those...are those dicks?”

Timmy looks down at his top that Armie’s pulled open, shrugs, then nods in confirmation. His pajama top and bottoms are a dark forest green on the outside but on the inside they are deeper in color, and printed all over them are a bunch of cocks — all varying degrees of arousal. 

“They’re custom, a gift from a fan. Do you like them? They’re reversible,” Timmy explains with a coy smile. Armie looks up and sees Timmy’s mouth spread with pride and adoration. He can’t help but laugh in the way only the person you love can inspire. 

“Of-fucking-course they are,” he beams and Timmy beams back. With a giggle, Timmy slaps both hands over Armie’s cheek and pulls him back in for another kiss. 

-

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Timmy whimpers breathlessly as he rolls his hips over Armie’s cock. His voice is delicate and soft, unresolved. One of Armie’s hands is on his hip, guiding the up and down motion as Timmy fucks himself on his cock. The other grips carefully at Timmy’s neck, his fingers spread across the glorious expanse of his throat. Armie wants to tell Timmy how pretty he is but he knows. He always knows.

“Kiss me, Armie,” Timmy demands, leaning forward and taking his chin between his thumb and index to tilt his mouth upwards. “Don’t fucking stop kissing me, okay?” Timmy pinches Armie’s bottom lip between his teeth, sucks it into his mouth before releasing it with a pop. “Please,” he adds with an open-mouthed grin.

Armie picks up the pace. He slips down the bed so he’s almost flat on his back and Timmy protests because he just fucking told Armie to keep kissing him, but he balances himself by pressing his palms against his chest, looks down with equal parts annoyance and pleasure. Armie grips the curve of his waist, fingers turning smooth pale skin white as he holds firm, digs his fingers in. He starts to thrust upwards, the _slap, slap, slap_ of his cock and balls slamming into Timmy’s ass only barely louder than the chant of curses and _Armie, yes, Armie, fuck_ that Timmy is muttering above him. 

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” Armie gives in, his eyes clenching as his balls tighten. Timmy is tight, he’s familiar, he’s home in a way that Armie never realized. Timmy moans louder, lifting a hand to push back his curls so he can see Armie beneath him. Armie yanks him down by the wrist and kisses him hard, possessively. They barely pull back for air because the cameras aren’t there to require better visual of their tongues or saliva. 

Timmy is tensing around him and they both race for their climax together, Timmy’s belly coiling hot with orgasm as he brings a hand to his cock, stroking it mercilessly as Armie continues to pound into him. 

“Wait, Armie,” Timmy struggles as if words are too difficult to speak. He pushes himself up by the heels of his palms, using Armie’s shoulders as leverage. Armie hisses and cries out when Timmy suddenly pulls off of him completely. 

“What are you doing?” Armie huffs, sitting up on his elbows, his cock red and angry between his thighs. Even the air conditioning of the hotel room feels painful now that Timmy’s heat is gone. 

“I want you to come on me, in my mouth.”

Armie is dumbfounded for a second until he realizes what Timmy is asking him. He remembers what he was told all those months ago;

_"One of the stipulations in my contract is that no one comes on me. It's my job; I get to paint all the pretty faces."  
_

Armie is off the bed in an instant, standing over Timmy who is already on his knees, which he’d placed a pillow underneath first, of course. Timmy licks a wet, sloppy circle over his lips to make them shine. He feels nervous, almost degraded, but he relishes the adrenaline it pushes through his body. He wants to do this for Armie — only for Armie, _anything_ for Armie.

Armie drags his thumb over the wetness of Timmy’s bottom lip, then shifts his hand so he can drag two fingers inside the hollow of Timmy’s mouth, against his tongue, getting each digit wet and slick. He uses the saliva to activate the lube that still on his cock. He starts to stroke himself against the plumpness of Timmy’s lips, his tongue darting out teasingly and lapping up the precome that’s still leaking endlessly. Timmy strokes his own cock as well, both of them still close to the edge. 

“Please, Armie, let me taste you. I can’t wait any longer,” Timmy huffs, his tongue slacks against his bottom lip. Armie can’t handle the sight of him, on his knees, saying his name like that, looking at him like that, almost begging but the truth was that Armie would do anything Timmy wants and they both know it, so is it really begging?

“Fuck, Timmy -” Armie stills and suddenly grips a handful of Timmy’s curls to hold steady. Timmy is wide open for him, his mouth suckling at the very tip of his cock as Armie slaps his hand over his length, coaxing out every bit of the best orgasm he’s ever had in his life. Timmy comes too, up his belly, over his bare thighs, on the pillow below him. He waits until Armie is done and before he swallows, he sucks his own come-covered finger into his mouth, smearing some of it over his lips, and flexes his tongue around the digit so he can taste both of them together.

**Author's Note:**

> cumpeachx on tumblr if you need to @ me


End file.
